


12 Months

by Myola



Series: 12 Months [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter RPF
Genre: Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, F/M, Gen, Harry Potter Next Generation, Multi, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-15
Updated: 2013-07-15
Packaged: 2017-12-20 06:56:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/884280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Myola/pseuds/Myola
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A sweet little story about Harry & Ginny 12 months after the Battle of Hogwarts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sleep

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes Harry can’t sleep. He passes the time instead. A favourite pastime is watching Ginny sleep. The rise and rest of her back as she sleeps. And how curious she is. On her front, a pillow curled under her chest, facing away from Harry, but she leans into him. Her bare back pressed against harry. Soft hair tickling his face, and Harry always fits into the small crook in her neck. Perfectly.

Sometimes Harry can’t sleep. He passes the time instead. A favourite pastime is watching Ginny sleep. The rise and rest of her back as she sleeps. And how curious she is. On her front, a pillow curled under her chest, facing away from Harry, but she leans into him. Her bare back pressed against harry. Soft hair tickling his face, and Harry always fits into the small crook in her neck. Perfectly.   
He wonders a lot of other things too. Ginny is delicate. But at the same time she is as fierce as a viper. Harry loves the way he can almost see the flames dance in her hazel eyes when she is furious. He loves how she puts the kettle on before leaving for work early in the morning, so its just finished boiling when he enter the kitchen. He loves her for her Sunday roast they have just the two of them. The way the comfortable silence feels how they sit across from each other. Or the way Harry watches Ginny when she bustles around the kitchen. Her face in deep concentration as she makes the gravy. Harry loves the little things the best, they mean much more.   
Amd sometimes Harry wonders if this is how his Dad felt, holding his mum. Was she his gravititaional effect as well?   
The soft pitter patter echoes on the roof of their cottage. It grows louder. Harry knows he can always use a charm to block out the sound, but decides to sit outside. The rain stays at a steady pace. Soft, but it has that air that makes thoughts appear, meaning nothing.  
Harry leaves their bed and puts on a robe. Its coming on autumn. The weather where they live is decent. He opens the front door and sits on the sofa on he porch. The cottae is surrounded by endless green plains. Its simple and peaceful,and its nothing either of them ever had. To the left of the cottage is a gully, streams winding in and out of the green and to the right, just in sight is the ocean.   
Right now, all Harry sees is dark grasslands. The clouds cover the stars, and the moon. Leaving Harry only with his own thoughts and the quiet sound of the rain.


	2. Thoughts

After Ginny feels Harry’s weight lift from the bed, and hears him creak on the floor boards along the landing and finally opens the screen Ginny rolls into Harry’s side. Its still warm and she breaths in his scent. She so badly wants to go after him, to sit next to him on the porch, watching the soft drizzle of the northern Skies. But she stays, knowing that Harry, in the first 11 years of being alone in the world, he is now used to the quiet silence and the flurry of thoughts.  
Its been a year 8 months, 17 days, 4 hours and 21 minutes since the Battle of Hogwarts. As Ginny presses her face into the soft quilt that smells like him she recollects those months before.  
This is true: Harry still gets the nightmares. Ginny knows this to be true, as she bears her fair share.  
In the still of the nights, always the bed shudders and shakes as Harrys strains and yells for the lost. Ginny presses her palm on either side of his face and whispers in his ear rubbing the back of his neck. It works, always and Harry’s eye lids open. Green eyes stare back, frightened, and alone. Ginny’s heart yearns, and she thinks this must be similar to the night Voldemort started everything. A 17 year battle. After a moment of realisation, and soothing words, Ginny leaves and goes to the kitchen, coming back with a cup of tea, and a small vial of sleeping potion. She sits in the chair next to Harry’s side of the bed and watches him silently as he drinks his tea.   
This is true: Lately, Harry has stopped shaking the bed in the still nights. Ginny lets him wander from the room. Sometimes she hears him turn on the wireless. Sometimes, in winter she hears a creak from the floorboards in the den, and knows its Harry settling into a book or simply just staring into the fire, watching the flames crackle and pop.   
This is true: Ginny has never followed him out of bed before, but this night, she feels the emptiness of the spacious bed and leaves the room, without her robe.  
The quiet rain patters on the tin roof. Ginny knows they can charm it so the noise is silence, but they are both taking a break from magic. She opens the screen and seats herself next to Harry leaning her head on his shoulder.  
Soft smell of rain makes Ginny feel noslastiac and she shivers as the breeze ripples through the air. Harry pulls her closer to him, wrapping a warm arm around her rubbing her side.  
“You forgot your robe,” he murmurs in her hair, and suddenly feels a pang of guilt for leaving Ginny alone in the bed for the many previous nights. He runs a hand down the curve of her waist. Ginny shivers and closes her eyes. Harry shrugs off his robe and places it around Ginny.  
“I’m sorry,” he says. Ginny scrunches up her nose and leans into the crook of his neck.  
“For what?” she asks. Harry swallows and turns to look into searching eyes. “For not being there for you. And for all these months, you’ve been there for me, Ginny. I needed that, but I’m always here for you. Always.” Ginny kisses his face.  
“You’ve always been there. Thank you.” She clasps his hand and they entwine their fingers. One is large, and scarred, with the scar of faint scribe on the top. Another lean and delicate, but its also strong as well and shares its own horrors.  
They sit and watch the rain for what seems like an eternity.


End file.
